


Breathe

by poppunkpadfoot (StormVandal)



Series: Breathe-verse [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Breathe-verse, Community: HPFT, Gen, Gender Identity, Hindu Potters, M/M, POC Potters, Queer Sirius Black, The Prank, warnings for child abuse and homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-04
Updated: 2015-07-28
Packaged: 2018-04-07 16:00:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4269423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormVandal/pseuds/poppunkpadfoot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the summer between fifth and sixth year, and in the aftermath of a prank gone horribly wrong, Sirius Black sets out to mend the damage he's caused to his friendships. In the process, he begins to mend himself, too.</p><p>(Written for jessicalorewrite's diversity challenge on harrypotterfanfiction.com.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. i. Consequence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sirius spent the first week of his summer holidays trying to write a letter to James.

Sirius spent the first week of his summer holiday trying to write a letter to James.

Well, technically, he spent the first three days trying to work up the courage to start. He had no idea what to say. On the third day he got as far as "Dear" before putting his quill down again, wondering whether to address the letter to "Prongs" or "James". James felt far too formal; Prongs felt forbidden, since Sirius was not sure if he and James were friends anymore.

The rest of the week was spent writing and re-writing. He was not interrupted – his parents were away in Paris for a fortnight, and had left him and Regulus home with Kreacher. This was not Sirius' ideal living situation, but had many benefits, including the fact that his mother wasn't constantly screaming up the stairs demanding his presence. He was instead left alone, and he much preferred it that way.

When Sirius finally finished the letter, his bin was overflowing with crumpled bits of parchment. He couldn't bear to re-read it; he knew if he did he'd lose his nerve and crumple this one up, too. He knew what it said anyway.

_Dear James,_  
_I hope that India is nice so far, and that you aren't still completely furious with me, although if you are I'll understand._  
  
It had struck him as he wrote that he didn't know where in India James was. He had family there, went to the same places every year - why hadn't Sirius ever asked where they lived?  
  
_Listen, James, I don't know what to say other than I'm sorry. And I am. I was stupid, and I was wrong. I was a great bloody git and if you don't want to be my friend anymore then I understand. Just please say so._  
_If there's anything at all that I can do to start to make this up to you, just say the word and I'll do it._  
_I'm sorry._  
_Sirius_  
  
He'd been hoping that writing the letter would make him feel a bit better, but it hadn't. He still felt as awful as he had since May. If anything, he felt worse. Here he was, begging for James' forgiveness when he knew he didn't deserve it.  
  
He couldn't even think about writing to Remus. Every time he did, his heart would clench painfully and the gnawing guilt would resurface.  
  
No, he wouldn't write to Remus; he wouldn't force Remus to deal with him, even to think of him. Sirius wouldn't upset Remus further by bringing up his betrayal.  
  
On another level, a selfish and more familiar level, he didn't think he could handle writing to Remus and not getting a letter of forgiveness back.  
  
He missed his friends desperately, even more so than he usually did by the second week of the holidays. In a normal summer, he would already have had at least 4 owls from James (double that if he hadn't yet left for India), some from Remus and maybe a few from Peter. This year, he hadn't had a single one so far – not that he'd been expecting any, since none of them had spoken to him since May.  
  
As much as he hated it, he knew he deserved it.  
  
  
**  
  
He'd only meant for it to be a prank. Just a harmless prank, a bit of payback. He hadn't been thinking, hadn't thought about the consequences- typical Sirius Black.  
  
He lay awake in bed now, night after night, everything replaying endlessly in his head. Snape's sneering, and how he just wouldn't  _stop_ ; sitting in Dumbledore's office, staring at the desk so hard his eyes were practically boring into it, Snape sitting, white and terrified, beside him and disappointment sharp in every word Dumbledore spoke; James, bruises and scratches on his arms and face, screaming at the top of his lungs, _Sirius, how could you_ ; and Remus, Remus wounded in worse ways than Sirius had ever seen, refusing to look at him, refusing to speak to him, shut off behind walls that Sirius was sure he would never be able to climb.  
  
And then that  _word_. That word, echoing over and over again in his mind in Snape's sneering, mocking voice.  
  
_Queer. Queer queer queer._  
  
And then he had to stop thinking as nausea rose up inside him, except he couldn't stop thinking and his mind kept going back to James and oh, Merlin, Remus, until he had to get out of bed to breathe or throw up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think! Kudos are nice and comments are wonderful! :D


	2. ii. Bhaii

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once he'd started, it was like he couldn't stop.

Ten minutes after Sirius woke up on the first day of the second week, an owl soared through his window and dropped a letter on his desk in front of him.  
  
Sirius' breath quickened when he noticed that this was not the family owl that he'd sent James' letter with, which meant that either someone (not Remus, he wouldn't let himself think it was Remus) wanted to talk to him, or that James had written back – because that was how it went when James was in India, they swapped out owls so as not to wear the birds out – and Sirius' hands started to tremble so badly that he dropped his hairbrush.  
  
The owl, relieved of its burden, flew off to rest on the perch in the corner rather than flying out the window, and that cemented it – this letter was from James.  
  
He sat there, frozen, for what felt like hours. Finally, he picked up the scroll and unravelled it.  
  
_Sirius,_  it began, and Sirius' heart fell into his stomach. There was no "Dear", no "Padfoot"- but what had he been expecting?  
  
_I know that you're sorry, but I'm not going to forgive you, not without knowing why. I'm not even sure that I can forgive you if you tell me. I mean, for Merlin’s sake, you told SNAPE how to get past the Whomping Willow! That’s hardly a “prank”. You almost ruined Moony's life, Sirius, over what?_  
  
_You were supposed to be his friend._  
  
_I need to know what the hell you were thinking._  
  
_James_  
  
It was the answer he'd been dreading, the question he'd been hoping wouldn't come. He put the letter down and stared at it blankly, hands twitching in his lap. Almost before he knew what he was doing, he pulled out a roll of parchment and started to write.  
  
Once he'd started, it was like he couldn't stop. Everything spilled out onto the parchment, all the things he'd been planning to say and all the things he didn't want to.  _Snape was goading me. He said he knew we were all up to something and that something was wrong with Remus, and he was going to figure out what it was. It was just Snape and I should have ignored him, but we were at the same table in potions that day, remember, Slughorn put us together because you and I wouldn't stop talking. And Snape was hissing in my ear, kept saying all his usual rubbish, and I told him to stuff it and he asked why I was so defensive over Remus and he wouldn't **stop** , James, I kept telling him to shut up and that just egged him on and then he called me a queer and oh, Merlin, James, I think I am and if anyone finds out then I'm dead and Snape knows and I was angry and scared and I just panicked, I wasn't thinking, I didn't think he'd  **do**  it. I was stupid and reckless and I don't deserve Remus' forgiveness, I know that, but James please I'm so scared and I don't know what to do and you're like my brother and I need you._  
  
It didn't occur to him until after he'd sent the letter back with a new owl that he might now lose James for an entirely different reason.  
  
**  
  
He received an owl back the next evening, and he was so relieved he could hardly breathe.  
  
He hadn't been able to sleep the night before. He'd had all the usual thoughts, but this time the word had been in James' voice, and Remus', and Peter's and Regulus' and his mother's...  
  
When he unrolled the scroll, he couldn't read what it said.  
  
_Dear Sirius,_  it began, and Sirius' heart leapt, but the rest of the letter was in a different language, the one James always wrote home in – Hindi. At the bottom of the scroll was a note scribbled in English. _Sorry, it's just really hard to write in English when I'm speaking and reading in Hindi all day. You can use a simple translation spell, there's one in our Charms textbook._  
  
_आपका भाई_  
  
_James_  
  
_P.S. If you haven't written to Remus yet, don't._  
  
He stared at the letter, anxiety bubbling in the pit of his stomach. He had no indication of the tone and the content besides the word "Dear" at the beginning – which was, admittedly, a good sign, but not enough. He could have gotten out The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 5 and looked up the charm, but instead he sat on his bed and traced his fingers over the salutation.  
  
The next morning, he dug a small box out from under his bed, fished out some Muggle money from the bottom, and ventured out into London. When he returned to Grimmauld Place, he had a Hindi-English dictionary hidden under his jacket.  
  
He spent his afternoon translating James' letter as best he could. Using a spell would have felt lazy, selfish, like a way for him to make James simple and convenient. He didn't want James to be convenient; he wanted him to be James, as he was, and he wanted him to be his friend.  
  
It was difficult, and he was angry with himself for not doing this years ago, for just expecting that James would write to him in English no matter how difficult it might be for him. Selfish. Inconsiderate. Again, he thought, typical Sirius Black.  
  
His translation wasn't perfect, far from it, but it was clear that the tone of the letter was concern, and Sirius felt like he could breathe more freely than he had in months. It asked how long this had been going on, and why Sirius hadn't said anything, because of course James didn't mind if he fancied blokes, he was still Sirius; it cautioned him to destroy any unsent letters and James' replies, just in case his parents found them (Sirius shuddered at the thought). It also reassured him that the Potters would be back from India on August 2nd, and that he was welcome to come visit.  
  
He felt his muscles relax and he slumped over his desk, resting his forehead in his hand, a smile spreading across his face.  _James didn't hate him._ He was angry, and he was far away, but he didn't hate Sirius.  
  
Finally, he sat up straight to translate the last piece of Hindi in the letter, the short phrase right before James' name.  
  
_आपका भाई_  
  
Your brother.  
  
It was the happiest he'd been since May.  
  
**  
  
He wrote back to James in careful, painstaking, probably-mostly-wrong Hindi. He worked backwards, wrote his letter in English first and translated it on to a separate piece of paper. When he sent it, he sent both rolls, just in case his translation was too bad for James to read. He couldn't stop fidgeting after he sent it, couldn't stop pacing. He wasn't just nervous about the Hindi, although that was a big part of it; he'd told James everything.  
  
He'd told him about how, when half the boys in 5th year had been fighting over Sandy Thomson, he'd been unable to stop thinking about her brother Joseph; and how he thought about Joel Litvak's ass more than he thought about Marlene McKinnon's; he'd even told about that one dream involving Archibold Doronin and very little clothing, and he hadn't said anything at all about Remus.  
  
He knew James wasn't going to mind; that wasn't why he was anxious. It was just that writing it all down had forced him to actually think about it, and he didn't want to. It was easier to simply force it to the back of his mind, like he did with so many other things, and refuse to acknowledge it.  
  
He was a coward, and he knew it, and that was another thing he didn't want to think about.  
  
He'd been able to unlearn most of his parents' bullshit by the time he was thirteen years old. He knew Muggleborns weren't all bad by the age of ten, from secrets whispered to him by Andromeda in the "Children's Room" at Christmastime. He'd stopped saying "Mudblood" by the end of his first year because it upset the other Marauders so much. By the beginning of his third year he'd given up on all the pretense and accepted what his parents were, and he'd never looked back.  
  
But this, this, somehow he'd internalized. He'd taken his mother's hissing about perverts and homosexuals, and he'd taken the flame that had burned his Uncle Alphard off the family tree, and he'd tucked it all into the back of his mind, and now it hissed and sneered at him and sent fear shooting through his veins. He  _hated_  it. He hated that he was scared of his mother and her rage and her nonsense. He hated that he was scared of _himself._  It was absurd and pathetic that he couldn't think to himself  _I like men_  without answering thoughts of  _degenerate, vile, depraved_  forcing their way to the forefront and making him feel ill.  
  
It was really no use though. Now that he'd written it all down, he couldn't deny it to himself anymore, or pretend that he was blowing some isolated incidents out of proportion, or make believe that his feelings towards  _Remus_ -  
  
No. He wouldn't let himself think about that, not even if he had to think about everything else.  
  
**  
  
James' reply came two days later, and with it was the Hindi version of Sirius' letter, carefully corrected. Sirius couldn't stop smiling all afternoon, even when he realized that his parents would be home in less than three days.  
  
_यह ठीक है, Sirius। तुम ठीक हो।_  
  
_It's okay, Sirius. You're okay._  
  
He was okay. If James said he was okay, then it was true.  
  
The hissing in his head didn’t stop, but it became much easier to ignore.  
  
_मैं खुश हूँ कि तुम्हारे माता पिता थोड़ी देर के लिये दूर होंगे। मुझे पता हैं कि तुम मेरी बात को ध्यान  नहि दोगे , पर जब वो वपस आएंगे, तब तुम अपना मुंह बंद  कर दो और सिर नीछे रखो।_  
  
_I’m glad your parents are away. I know you’re going to ignore this, but just try to keep your head down and your mouth shut when they get back._  
  
As if he could. Sirius was not patient. He had a short fuse and a loud mouth. He was just like his mother in that regard; he had always considered it one of his worst characteristics, and now that it had lost him Remus…  
  
His sleep was still fitful and hard to come by. He still thought of the bruises and scratches, and Snape’s terrified face, and Remus. He dreamed of drowning. Most of the time, when he woke up, there were a few moments where he still felt like he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to thank people in my A/N for the first chapter! So, here's my list of thank yous (it is very long, sorry not sorry):  
> -Adi (randomwriter on HPFF/randomhpffwriter on the HPFF forums) who helped me work through the Devanagari in this chapter and was very patient  
> -Erin (Infinityx on HPFF/Theia on the HPFF forums) who, after reading this, took the time to message me about some discrepancies she noticed with the Hindu stuff I'd written and was really lovely and helpful  
> -Riya (teenage-believers on tumblr) who helped me out with the elements of Hinduism that appear in this story  
> -Sriram (desiprongspotter on tumblr/highandlonelydestiny here on AO3) who very graciously looked over this for me to make sure I wasn't being an offensive fuck. he also gets a thank you for opening my eyes to the wonders of Indian James Potter in the first place and also for just being a wonderful human being.  
> -my absolutely wonderful friend Briar (mayjunejoly on tumblr/honeycombeferre here on AO3); this story would not exist without them. they beta'd it, but they also poured love into it and encouraged me and i could not have finished this without them.  
> -my tumblr mom, Drew (shorm on tumblr/AO3, also Bdoing on AO3) for also reading this and being awesome about it and helping beta


	3. iii. Trapped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sirius awoke to the sound of the front door slamming.

On the last day of the second week, Sirius awoke to the sound of the front door slamming and his mother’s loud, shrill voice.  
  
He made a noise of displeasure into his pillow and rolled over, pulling it over his face. Life at Grimmauld Place without his parents hadn’t been _pleasant_ , but it had at least been tolerable. Regulus and Kreacher had left him to his own devices, and it might have been almost relaxing if not for the overall oppressive atmosphere of the house.  
  
But now his parents were home, and with them came the return of screaming and cursing and insults and...well.  
  
He wondered vaguely if other Pureblood families were like this behind closed doors.  
  
He could hear his father commanding Kreacher to deal with their luggage, and Regulus scrambling downstairs to greet them. Sirius didn’t move. He shut his eyes tightly. Maybe he was still asleep. Maybe this was just another nightmare; it certainly felt like he was drowning.  
  
The voices downstairs were surprisingly quiet for a while. Sirius didn’t bother to strain to hear them. In fact, he tried to think of anything  _but_ what might be happening downstairs.  
  
They’d been home for about ten minutes; Regulus was probably telling them of all Sirius’ transgressions over the course of the year by now. They weren’t exactly the most affectionate family in the world, so he doubted they’d opted for hugs and a nice chat instead.  
  
The voices downstairs increased in volume; there were footsteps on the stairs. Sirius screwed his face up despite himself as his bedroom door banged open and his mother’s shrieks filled the room.  
  
**  
  
Life at Grimmauld Place got back to normal annoyingly quickly. The house was once again a minefield; every time Sirius left his room, he risked setting one of his parents off.  
  
One of the first things his mother had done upon her return home was decide that Sirius needed a haircut.   
  
He’d let his hair grow out over the course of the school year, at first from forgetfulness and laziness, and then a bit more purposefully. He’d liked the way it felt, how it grazed his jaw and cheeks when he bent over his work. He’d liked the way it looked, too; it made him look a little different from the other boys in his year.  
  
His mother had taken one look at him and declared that he looked like a vagabond. She’d dragged him down to the kitchen, Immobilized him in a chair and, with a few flicks of her wand, given him a crew cut.  
  
Sirius had felt a strange urge to cry as he’d watched curls fall into his lap, but he’d choked it down. Sirius Black didn’t  _cry_ , especially over something so trivial as hair.  
  
But even now, a week later, he couldn’t stop touching it. It felt wrong. He’d covered the mirror in his bedroom so that he wouldn’t have to look at his reflection. That wasn’t him. That wasn’t what he was supposed to look like.  _It’s just hair_ , he told himself over and over,  _it’s just hair it’s just hair_  but it felt so  _wrong_  and he didn’t even know why.  
  
_Prongs,_  
  
_Everything’s the usual here. Mum’s horrid. I’m fine._  
  
He was fine. Fine fine fine. He could handle his parents. He could deal with his father’s coldness and his mother’s hatred. He didn’t need them. He was fine.  
  
He couldn’t just hide away in his room anymore, though. His mother was constantly demanding his presence downstairs in the drawing room, usually because they had company. The predictable stream of prestigious Pureblood visitors had resumed with his parents’ return; many of them were family, somehow, and could be found on the tapestry on the wall.  
  
It was perfectly well-known, of course, that Sirius was the black sheep of the Black family - Gryffindor and proud, best friends with a couple of half-bloods and the Potter boy - but Walburga Black couldn’t let anyone think that her eldest son had slipped completely out of her control. And so Sirius was forced to sit silent and rigid beside Regulus in the drawing room, while distant relatives scrutinized him and his dress robes stuck to him with sweat.  
  
_Dear Sirius,_  
  
_Hang in there. We’ll be back in 12 days._  
  
Twelve days. He could last twelve days. He could even last longer than that, give the Potters a few days to settle in before he intruded.  
  
He was fine. Fine fine fine.  
  
  
**  
  
  
Four days later, Sirius had to admit to himself that he was not fine. He was crawling out of his fucking skin. The walls of the house seemed to be closing in on him, suffocating him. He dreamed of drowning and woke up in cold sweats.  
  
He had to write to James and translate his replies by wandlight under his covers at night. He couldn’t let his mother catch him with an English-Hindi dictionary.  
  
He was on a rigid schedule now that his parents were home. He was woken up for breakfast every morning, sent to see a tutor in the library until lunch - apparently, his mother had resumed her attempts to have him and Regulus learn Latin and Ancient Greek. (Sirius was more hopeless at the subjects than ever before; he kept getting distracted by trying to remember the difference between इ and ई, or whether the Devanagari for “bored” had one flick on the top or two.) Then, after lunch, he would be sent to his room, unless his presence was required down in the drawing room for the benefit of guests. Then, he had to join his parents and Regulus for tea in the dining room, and after that he would be sent back to his room. It was all so dull, and every time he couldn’t take it anymore and snarked at one of his parents, he would be sent back to his room, aching down to his core.  
  
And still he tried. He tried to endure. He tried to listen to James, to keep his head down and his mouth shut, but it was so  _hard_  when all he heard from anyone else was criticism.  
  
Three days before the Potters were due to return home, Sirius’ mother announced over tea that they had been invited to a party at Malfoy manor on the 6th.  
  
“You’ll be on your best behaviour, of course.” Mrs Black’s threatening gaze was fixed on Sirius, and her voice was icy. “Why they even bothered to invite you, I don’t know.”  
  
Sirius frowned down at his plate and stabbed his fork viciously into a roast potato. He didn’t know why the Malfoys had invited him, either. Perhaps he was going to serve as the evening’s entertainment, considering how much enjoyment his parents’ Pureblood friends seemed to take out of scrutinizing him. He really,  _really_  didn’t want to go, but he wanted to face his mother’s wrath even less. He needed to be on his best behaviour so she would let him go to the Potter’s on the 5th. (Well. The 7th, now.)  
  
He and Regulus were dismissed from the table before Sirius had finished his dessert, but he didn’t bother to complain. He left the room as quickly as possible, and was halfway up the stairs when Regulus spoke behind him.  
  
“You know…” His voice was hesitant. “The party might be fun if you just try to enjoy yourself.”  
  
“Why on earth would I  _want_  to enjoy myself at a Malfoy party?” Sirius snapped, turning to look at his brother. Regulus’ face was painfully earnest, and it filled Sirius with frustration. Why was Regulus so  _stupid_  as to fall for their parents’ crap?  
  
“I’m just saying… you know, they’re not all bad, mother and father’s friends. You could find someone to dance with, talk to-”  
  
“You know what they all think of me, Reg,” Sirius sighed in exasperation. “They aren’t going to want to dance with me. They think I’m  _scum_.”  
  
Regulus shook his head quickly. “No, not  _those_  ones. Some of them are okay, Sirius, really.”  
  
“Why do you even care if I have fun at the stupid party, anyway?”  
  
“I… I just…” Regulus looked crestfallen, and Sirius suddenly didn’t want to be there anymore. He turned and walked away up the stairs, leaving his brother behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm glad people are liking this so far! <3 I hope you all enjoy this chapter too, let me know what you think with a comment!


	4. iv. Mistake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party at Malfoy Manor, and a mistake.

 Sirius got dressed for the party slowly. He put on the crisp, ironed black dress robes that his mother had had Kreacher lay out, and reached for his hairbrush before he remembered that he didn’t really need it, not now.  
  
He was glad his mirror was still covered. Even without looking at himself, he felt so  _wrong_. His ribs felt too tight, his skin didn’t sit right on his bones, it was all wrong wrong wrong and being in those uncomfortable dress robes with that horrible haircut was not helping.   
  
When he got downstairs, his parents and Regulus were waiting for him in the entrance hall. Regulus looked completely at home in his high-collared midnight blue dress robes. For a moment, Sirius envied him.  
  
His mother gave him a once-over as soon as he stopped in front of her. Her nose crinkled slightly in distaste, as it so often did when she looked at him; she sniffed and turned away. “I suppose it will have to do.”  
  
**  
  
Malfoy Manor looked spectacular, as usual. There were lanterns full of fairies lighting up the drive, and albino peacocks strutted around on the immaculate lawn and amongst the partygoers making their way to the front door. Sirius had a hard time resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the ostentatiousness of it all.  
  
“Stand up straight,” his father hissed to him as they were let into the manor. “Stop slouching.”  
  
Sirius straightened up and shot a glare at his father’s back. He wished he was at home in bed, or, better yet, at the Potter’s.  
  
Lavinia Malfoy greeted them at the entrance to the ballroom (a  _ballroom_ , leave it to the Malfoys to have a  _ballroom_  in their  _house_ ) with a stiff smile and waved them into the party. Sirius immediately took the opportunity to get as far away from his family as possible. He wandered over to an empty corner and leant up against the wall, huffing out a sigh. He couldn’t believe he’d been dragged along to this stupid thing. What was the point of him being here?  
  
It was a standard Malfoy party. Guests in extravagant dress robes mingled and danced. House elves in pressed white tea towels wandered amongst the partygoers, holding trays of hor d’oeuvres over their heads. Orchestral music filled the room from playerless instruments over in the opposite corner. It was all so…  _so Pureblood_. Already, Sirius was bored out of his skull.  
  
The evening didn’t improve as it went on. Sirius managed to snag some snacks from passing elves, but all of them scarpered when he tried to start conversation. Most of the other guests weren’t paying him any attention; a few of them did double takes, probably wondering why he was standing alone in a corner, but none of them came to talk to him. Not that he  _cared_  that he was being ignored. It was better that than being mocked and scrutinized.  
  
He’d been standing there for almost an hour and was looking around for the nearest House Elf when someone spoke next to him.  
  
“Awful party, isn’t it?”  
  
Sirius’ eyebrows shot up and he turned his head slowly towards the person who’d spoken. It was Frederic Macmillan, who’d been a Chaser on the Ravenclaw Quidditch team. He’d graduated from Hogwarts two years ago.  
  
“Sirius, right?” said Frederic pleasantly, extending a hand for a shake. “Sirius Black?”  
  
“Er… yeah.” Sirius blinked dazedly a few times before shaking Frederic’s proffered hand. “And you’re Frederic Macmillan?”  
  
Frederic nodded and flashed Sirius a smile. Sirius noticed that their handshake had gone on rather longer than was usual, and was really less of a handshake than Frederic holding Sirius’ hand in his. Sirius’ cheeks went a bit hot, but he didn’t let go.  
  
“So you got dragged to this party too?” Frederic finally pulled his hand away, and Sirius’ gaze followed it despite himself. “I can’t believe my parents made me come. Forgive me, but I can’t believe  _you_  were invited in the first place.”  
  
Sirius shrugged. He was normally much more verbose than this, but he wasn’t exactly feeling like himself in the first place, and he was so thrown that Frederic was talking to him.  
  
“I can’t see the Malfoys inviting the Potters, either… I’m guessing that’s why you’re alone over here?”  
  
“Yeah,” Sirius managed. “I mean. I don’t think they’d have come, anyway.”  
  
Frederic nodded and they lapsed into silence, watching the dancers in the center of the room. A House Elf came by with a tray of Firewhiskey, and Frederic took two tumblers.  
  
“Might make this party more bearable,” he said, offering one to Sirius.  
  
Sirius hesitated. The idea of getting smashed on Firewhiskey was a tempting one, but his family was there too, and he hardly thought his mother would react well if he came home drunk at the end of the night. “Er… no, thank you.”  
  
Frederic shrugged. “Suit yourself.”  
  
Sirius studied him out of the corner of his eye as he drank both glasses of Firewhiskey. He didn’t look much different from how Sirius remembered him at Hogwarts. He was of average build, with a delicate face and sleek blonde hair. He was… pretty, almost. Sirius swallowed and looked down. This was  _not_ a good time to be having thoughts like that.  
  
“Merlin, that’s much better,” said Frederic after he’d finished the second tumbler. “Takes the edge right off. You sure you don’t want one?”  
  
“Yeah, my mum would have a fit if she saw me drinking.” Sirius tried his best to sound lighthearted; he didn’t want to deal with concern and awkward questions.  
  
“Suit yourself.” Frederic was starting to look bored, not that Sirius cared; what was it to him if Frederic went off to find someone better to talk to and left Sirius alone? He didn’t  _need_  company. He was fine on his own.  
  
He was snapped out of this train of thought by Frederic nudging him gently in the ribs. “Would you like to go outside? It’s stuffy in here.”  
  
Sirius didn’t feel that the ballroom was stuffy, per se, but he was eager to leave it. He nodded and followed Frederic out onto a patio, jumping over the rail to stroll along the lawn.  
  
It was actually quite a pleasant evening. The sun had just disappeared under the horizon, and the pinks and oranges of the sunset were slowly fading, replaced with soft blues and purples. There were fireflies flitting about overhead, and a fountain could be heard gurgling somewhere on the grounds. To his surprise, Sirius found himself smiling properly for the first time in two weeks.  
  
They found the fountain after a while in the center of a small and very neat rose garden. It had three ornately sculpted tiers over which water flowed into the pool at the bottom. There was a wide rim, and Sirius plopped down on it without really thinking. The sound of the fountain was soothing, and he wanted to stay there for a bit.  
  
Frederic looked down at him and raised an eyebrow, but shrugged and sat as well - albeit in a much more dignified manner. “So, Sirius. You’re still at Hogwarts?”  
  
“Mmh. Just finished 5th year.”  
  
“Oh, O.W.L. year, that’s a big milestone. How do you reckon you did?”  
  
“Well, Defense was dead easy, but I’m not too sure about History of Magic…”  
  
They sat and chatted about school for a while (although why they were voluntarily discussing school during the holidays, Sirius had no idea); eventually, this progressed to talking about Sirius’ social life.  
  
“You’re still friends with James Potter, right?”  
  
Sirius nodded, but his throat went tight. He really hoped Frederic wasn’t going to keep up with this line of questioning. He didn’t want to have to talk about-  
  
“Oh, good. He’s an excellent Chaser for his age, I remember being very impressed by him. Have you seen him at all this summer?”  
  
Sirius raised an eyebrow at him, wondering what was up with all the questions, but shook his head. “They were in India, they just got back.”  
  
“I see.”   
  
A pause, and then- “And you two are just friends?”  
  
Sirius was so startled that he couldn’t even form any words. He just sat there gawping, mouth opening and closing like some kind of ridiculous goldfish. Frederic seemed to take this as something it wasn’t, because he smiled and patted Sirius’ knee comfortingly.  
  
“It’s alright. Your secret’s safe with-”  
  
“No!” Sirius burst out, making Frederic jump. “No, me and James are - he’s like my brother! We’re not - we’re just friends.”  
  
“Oh.” Frederic now looked mightily embarrassed. His cheeks went pink and everything. “I-I’m sorry. I got a sort of vibe off of you, and you two were always so close and I just…”  
  
“A… a vibe?” Sirius’ hands were twitching in his lap, and he was starting to feel nauseous. He gave off a  _vibe_?! How many people knew? How long would it be before his mother found out, or figured it out herself?  
  
“Well, clearly I was mistaken. I…” Sweat was starting to form on Frederic’s forehead, and Sirius might have noticed how nervous he looked if he weren’t panicking so much. “I can usually, I don’t know, tell when… when someone else is gay. I just-”  
  
“You’re gay?” Sirius’ voice was sharper than intended, his panic making him harsh, and Frederic flinched almost imperceptibly.  
  
“I… yes, but obviously you aren’t, so let’s just… forget about it, alright?”  
  
“No, I…” Sirius took in a deep, shuddering breath and licked his lips. “I… I mean, I… I think I might be.”  
  
Frederic squinted at him. “You do?”  
  
“I… yeah. I’m not sure though, I mean, I… I’ve never… kissed a bloke, or anything.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
There was a very long and slightly awkward pause. Then Frederic said, in a voice that was so quietly that Sirius barely heard him, “Would you… like to?”  
  
Sirius stared at him; he’d gone pink again. “What?”  
  
“Obviously, if you don’t want to, that’s fine. I just thought we could… well…”  
  
Sirius hesitated, his stomach in knots. Kissing a boy might solidify this, make it real, and he wasn’t sure that that was what he wanted. But on the other hand… he was  _Sirius effing Black_ , he wasn’t going to turn down a snog. If he was going to be a queer, he might as well do it properly.  
  
“Okay, sure,” he decided, steeling himself and turning to face Frederic. “Why the hell not?”  
  
Frederic looked surprised. “R-really?”  
  
Sirius rolled his eyes. “Yes, now get on with it before I change my mind.”  
  
It was… well, it was a kiss. It wasn’t the best one Sirius had ever had, and it certainly wasn’t putting him into any sort of fit of passion. But he wasn’t disgusted, either. Really, it was just about the same as snogging a girl.  
  
Frederic had just wrapped an arm around Sirius’ waist and pulled  him closer when there was a loud, shocked gasp from behind them.  
  
Sirius jerked away and looked around wildly. When his eyes found the source of the noise, his heart plummeted into his stomach.  
  
Regulus was standing a few feet away, staring right at him, a look of horror on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh dear! Bit of a cliffhanger for you lovely folks! What's Regulus going to do? :0
> 
> I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments!


	5. v. Drowning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Major warnings for this chapter for child abuse and violent homophobia.

It was a warm night, but Sirius’ entire body was trembling violently. He  _ached_ , everything ached, he was sure he’d never been in so much agony before in his life; his mother had used those curses on him before, of course, but never with so much ferocity. He’d never seen her so angry.  
  
He’d spent the rest of the party trying to catch Regulus’ eye, but Regulus wouldn’t look at him. He’d felt nauseated, dazed.  _He’s going to tell. He’s going to tell._  
  
As soon as they’d arrived home, Sirius had run up to his bedroom, torn off his dress robes, and started throwing things into his rucksack, the one that Remus’ mum had helped him magically enlarge last summer ( _don’t think about Remus stop thinking about Remus_ ). He’d blindly thrown robes and all his school things in with James’ letters and his dictionary and was almost halfway down the stairs when he found his path blocked by his mother. At the bottom of the stairs was Regulus, staring fixedly at the floor with a guilty expression on his face.  
  
The next half hour was a blur of pain, and his mother’s furious shrieks, and his own screams of agony. She’d dragged him into the drawing room before she’d started; when she’d finished, he’d watched from the floor through unfocused eyes as she’d burned his portrait off the family tapestry.  _Degenerate,_  hissed the voice in his head,  _vile, depraved…_  
  
The smouldering patch of the tapestry was imprinted on the backs of his eyelids.  
  
He stopped at the end of the road (he didn’t know which road, he didn’t know where he was, he’d just wanted to get as far away as possible and now he was lost, oh gods) to throw up into the wastebin. Grimacing at the taste of blood and vomit in his mouth, he straightened up, looking around for some indication of where he was.  
  
What was he going to do? He could go to St. Mungo’s, he supposed - that is, if he weren’t so completely lost. He didn’t know how to Apparate, he couldn’t use magic now that he wasn’t at home, there was nowhere he could Floo from-  
  
The Knight Bus. Did he have any money? With fumbling fingers, he started checking all the pockets in his rucksack. A chocolate frog card, a broken quill, some scraps of parchment… and then his fingers closed around a Galleon.  
  
For a moment, he was dizzy with relief.  _Breathe, Sirius. Breathe. Breathe._  
  
**  
  
His trip on the Knight Bus was much shorter than he’d been anticipating; since it was so late, there weren’t very many other customers. The conductor and driver had sent him numerous concerned looks over the course of the frenetic trip, which he’d tried his best to ignore. The jolting and swaying of the bus hadn’t helped his nausea, and he was relieved to get off at the end of the Potter’s lane.  
  
The sight of Potter Manor filled Sirius with a warm sort of relief, like a fresh cup of tea or his bed in Gryffindor tower. The windows were all dark, but small lanterns lit up the path to the red front door. Instead of following the path, Sirius stepped carefully over the small garden that followed it and made his way to the back of the house.  
  
He stopped under James’ window and cringed when he realized he’d be waking his friend up. For a moment he considered sleeping on the ground outside, not wanting to be a nuisance, but thought better of it; if Mrs Potter found him there in the morning, she’d fuss for hours, and then he’d be a nuisance to her.  
  
Not wanting to wake James’ parents, and not willing to risk using magic in his less-than-optimal condition, Sirius ended up groping in the grass for pebbles and throwing them at James’ window until his face appeared behind the glass.  
  
He was by Sirius’ side within minutes, dressing robe thrown on over his pajamas and feet bare, concern written all over his face. “Sirius? What’s going on, what are you doing here?”  
  
Sirius took a deep breath, trying to keep his cool. “James,” he said, and winced as his voice cracked.  
  
The look of worry on James’ face intensified. He placed a hand on Sirius’ shoulder, peering into his face and scanning for any outward indications of what might be wrong. “Padfoot?”  
  
“James, I-”   
  
And then his chin started wobbling and then, oh Merlin, he was fucking  _crying_ , there were tears streaming down his cheeks and his shoulders were shaking, and he put a hand over his face in a weak attempt to hide it from James because he didn’t want James to see him like that.  
  
“Padfoot?” James sounded downright alarmed now. He wrapped his arms around Sirius, one hand on his waist and the other at the back of his neck, and Sirius - almost despite himself - leant his head on James’ shoulder. They stayed like that for a while, James rocking Sirius slightly and Sirius choking back sobs until he managed to stop crying.  
  
“It’s okay, Padfoot,” James murmured, over and over again. “You’re okay, you’re safe” and Merlin, Sirius had missed him so much, and he’d missed the name Padfoot, and he was crying like a baby in the Potter’s yard in the middle of the night because he’d been  _kicked out_ , and he half thought he was dreaming.  
  
“Come on, let’s go inside.” James slowly let go of Sirius and gave his elbow an encouraging tug. “I can get the guest bed set up for you and you can tell me what happened. I mean, if you’re up for it.”  
  
Sirius nodded mutely and, wiping his wet face with his sleeve, let James lead him to the front door and into the house.  
  
He took a deep breath as he took off his shoes in the entryway, revelling in the familiar scent of Potter Manor - cardamom, sandalwood, magnolias and  _chai_ , all mingling together with a hundred other smells. The sandalwood and magnolia were coming from the shrine off the living room, he knew, and most of the other scents were coming from the kitchen. He put his shoes neatly besides James’ on the mat and followed him quietly up the stairs.  
  
“I’ll just go check if the guest bed’s made,” James whispered. “You go wait in my room, okay?”  
  
Sirius did as he was told. When he sat down on James’ bed, he realized how much he was still aching; all his muscles felt stiff and tight. With a quiet groan, he started rolling his neck and shoulders, wincing as his joints popped.  
  
“What did she do?” James asked from the doorway, making Sirius jump.  
  
Sirius sighed and made another noise of discomfort. “Just the usual, I suppose…”  
  
“Curses?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
James sighed as well and sat down next to him. “Do you want me to see if I can find a pain potion or something?”  
  
“I’m okay.”  
  
James sighed again, more heavily this time, and wrapped an arm around Sirius’ shoulders. “Is this just an overnight or should I get my parents up?”  
  
Sirius’ eyes welled up again, causing him to groan in frustration. He wiped his eyes angrily, refusing to look at James. “She… she burned me off the tapestry.”  
  
“...Oh.”  
  
Sirius continued swiping at his eyes, his hands shaking. He was furious with himself. It was bad enough that he’d already cried in front of James once - why was he on the verge of doing it again?  
  
“It’s okay, Pads.” James wrapped his other arm around Sirius too and pulled him closer. “Mumma and papa won’t mind putting you up. Come on, you should get some rest. You can go crash in the guest room and we’ll talk to them in the morning, yeah?”  
  
“I don’t want-” Sirius choked out, trying not to sound as ashamed of himself as he felt. “Can I just… stay here?”  
  
James paused, and Sirius squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for rejection or even teasing. But it didn’t come.  
  
“Of course you can.”  
  
They sat there in silence. The moon was starting to sink in the sky outside the window, and James was stroking Sirius’ too-short hair, and Sirius was drowning again.


	6. vi. Awakening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New routines and invitations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clarence Weasley is Arthur Weasley's brother. We know he had two brothers, but don't know either one's name. One is presumably Bilius Weasley, but the other is never named. So I decided to name him Clarence :P

When Sirius woke up the next morning, there was no moment of confusion, no delay in knowing where he was. The sheets he was entangled in were cotton instead of silk, there were birds chirping outside, and the smell of  _roti_  was wafting up from the kitchen. Also, James was blowing a raspberry in his ear.  
  
“Prongs!” he whined, batting his hand in James’ general direction. “Get out of it!”  
  
He felt James shift away from him on the bed. He could picture the smug look on his face without even looking. Huffing out a sigh, he sat up and squinted at his best friend.  
  
“How are you so chipper?” he groused. Granted, he had no idea what time it was, but he was sure it was far too early for James to be looking so happy and _awake_.  
  
“I’ve been up for hours, idiot.” James rolled his eyes “ _Puja_ , remember?”  
  
“Oh yeah…” Sirius wanted to smack himself. He had no idea how he still managed to forget puja after being friends with James for so long - after bloody _living_  with him for the better part of the past several years. He had a shrine in a corner of their dorm room and everything.  _Typical, Sirius_ , he found himself thinking.  _Self-absorbed, inconsiderate…_  
  
“Mumma told me to come get you. She let you sleep through breakfast, but now lunch is almost ready and she says you need your nourishment.”  
  
Sirius swallowed. “And they’re, uh. They’re okay with me staying here?”  
  
“Course they are,” James said easily. “Pitched a bit of a fit because I didn’t wake them up when you arrived, though. Come on, you know they love having someone else around to spoil.”  
  
He waited around while Sirius got dressed, chatting away about the various things they could do that day. They went downstairs together as soon as Sirius was presentable.  
  
Mr. and Mrs. Potter were in the kitchen, and they both beamed at the sight of Sirius. Sirius, who had almost forgotten what it was like to have people be happy to see him, was completely thrown for a moment. Luckily, he remembered his manners before James had to nudge him.  
  
He did what James had taught him to do the first time he’d ever visited, all the way back in first year. He put his hands together in front of him and bowed slightly. “ _Namaste ji._ ”  
  
Before he quite knew what was happening, Mrs. Potter had rushed over and pulled him into a bone-crushing hug; he practically had to double over to hug her back. She rocked him back and forth slightly, talking a mile a minute in Hindi. When she pulled away, she patted Sirius’ cheek affectionately, and Sirius had to duck his head to hide his flustered blush. As soon as he looked back up, he noticed James’ smirk, and he raised an eyebrow, resisting the temptation to glare.  
  
“Oh,” James said when he noticed the look on Sirius’ face, his smirk growing. “She was just saying how much you’ve grown since she last saw you, and that you look underfed and need to be fattened up.”  
  
Sirius, unable to help himself, stuck his tongue out at James; Mrs. Potter tutted reprovingly, but her delighted smile remained on her face.  
  
**  
  
It was strange for the first few days, being around people who didn’t abhor him - who not only liked him, but  _wanted_  to be around him. Mrs. Potter doted on him almost as much as she did James, and was constantly offering him chai and snacks. Mr. Potter grinned every time Sirius walked into the room, sometimes clapping him on the back or asking about his wellbeing through James. James hardly ever left his side; they were constantly together, plotting mischief for the upcoming school year. Sirius had already finished all his homework, so he helped James get his done. It was almost like an ordinary summer.  
  
However, there were certain subjects that James and Sirius carefully avoided. The foremost among these subjects was Remus. They’d talked about Peter - Sirius had told James that he hadn’t heard from him yet, and James had pointed out that Sirius could always have written first - but Remus’ name had been left unsaid. Sirius wasn’t sure if it was for his sake or James’, or maybe the sake of their newly-repaired friendship.   
  
If it was for his sake, Sirius thought to himself gloomily, it was backfiring. The absence of Remus’ name in conversations it should have been in made his absence in Sirius’ life all the more noticeable. It was a constant ache that Sirius couldn’t ignore.  
  
He slept in the guest bedroom after the first night. He could see the moon out the window.  
  
He wondered how Remus was faring, if any of the scars Sirius had caused had started to fade - the angry red mark that glared from under the neckline of his school shirts, or the haunted look he got in his eyes when his mind started to wander. He wondered, selfishly, if Remus ever thought of him with anything other than hatred.  
  
Everything else gradually got easier. He was quick to adjust to the minutiae of living at the Potters. The lack of cutlery at mealtimes was expected, and eating with his right hand - never his left - became routine. He started picking up on phrases that Mr. and Mrs. Potter used frequently now that he was actually paying attention, and even figured out a few words to say back so he didn’t have to rely on James so much. Sometimes he and James would help Mrs. Potter cook dinner, or sit in the living room and play Wizard Chess while Mr. Potter read. It was like having a proper family. Sirius had almost forgotten the feeling, and now it felt even better than ever before.  
  
Within the first few days of Sirius’ stay, James noticed the way Sirius kept absently touching his hair - and how he would invariably frown each time. Sirius had already explained to him what had happened to it, and he’d tried to sound casual, like it didn’t matter. And it didn’t. It was just hair, he kept reminding himself. He was being ridiculous.  
  
But James didn’t seem to think he was being ridiculous. By the end of the week he was starting to look concerned whenever Sirius’ hands went to his head. Finally one evening he said, “Sirius… do you want me to fix it for you?”  
  
Sirius blinked a few times, putting his hand back down by his side. “What? My hair? How?”  
  
James cracked a smile. “I figured out how to cast a hair-regrowth charm after that incident with the toilet and the fireworks last year. I could give it a try, if you want.”  
  
Sirius bit down on his lip, trying to contain a grin. He didn’t want to seem too eager, because it might confuse James and he wasn’t sure he could answer his questions. “Er… sure, why not?”  
  
So James sat him down on the edge of his bed, and he grabbed his wand from the top of his dresser, and he started waving it in slow, side-to-side motions over Sirius’ head, muttering under his breath. Sirius sat still and tried not to squirm. The sensations caused by the spell were strange - a feeling of tugging on his scalp, of tingling at the nape of his neck. It was decidedly weird.  
  
And then-  
  
_Flump._  
  
“Oops,” said James.  
  
Sirius’ breath caught in his throat. Slowly, he shook his head.  
  
Hair brushed his shoulders.  
  
“I may have, er, overdone it slightly.” James looked sheepish.  
  
Sirius stood up. He could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears. On slightly shaky legs, he walked over to James’ dresser and peered into the mirror above it at the dark hair falling in soft curls around his shoulders.  
  
Fireworks went off in the pit of his stomach.  
  
“Don’t worry, I can fix it,” James said from behind him. “Or mumma can, I’ll tell her to leave it longer than it was before-”  
  
“No.” Sirius’ voice was calm, and he had no idea how he’d managed to sound that way when he was anything but. There was a cocktail of ecstasy and fear running through his veins, making his hands tremble. He was overjoyed, and he was confused, because he didn’t know why he was overjoyed. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from the mirror, and he couldn’t stop himself from smiling. “No, it’s… I like it.”  
  
**  
  
James didn’t make a fuss over Sirius’ hair, and Sirius was grateful. Upon Sirius’ declaration that he liked the length and didn’t want it fixed, James had simply blinked, shrugged, and said, “Your call, mate.”  
  
It was amazing how much better he felt. He’d often find himself absent-mindedly twirling locks of hair around his fingers, and he smiled every time he looked in a mirror. He put his happiness down to the fact that his mother would be furious if she saw him; he supposed he got a subconscious kick out of it.  
  
Mr. and Mrs. Potter were confused, but tolerant. Mrs. Potter gave him hair ties so he could put it up in a ponytail, which he did whenever he and James were planning something and were bent over scraps of parchment. He got used to it quickly; it just felt so  _natural_.  
  
But not everything was better. He was still having nightmares, waking up with the feeling of water haunting his lungs. Sometimes he got got lost in thought during mealtimes, wondering about Remus, and when he snapped back to reality he’d catch Mr. and Mrs. Potter looking at him in concern.  
  
“Mumma and papa are worried sick about you,” James said to him one day, his light tone too forced to really sound casual.  
  
“What? Why?”  
  
“They say you flinch every time they raise their wands.”  
  
**  
  
The full was on the 9th that August. Sirius watched the moon grow steadily rounder each night out his window, and he worried about Remus. Had the wolf calmed back down since May? Had he been doing any better since Sirius had last seen him?  
  
The day before the full, he finally broached the subject with James. He brought it up while the two of them were sitting outside on the lawn after a game of one-on-one Quidditch.  
  
“Have you heard from Remus?”  
  
He couldn’t help but notice the way James tensed up. “Er… yeah, I have.”  
  
“How - how is he?”  
  
James looked at him warily. “Okay? Why?”  
  
“I just - the full is tomorrow, and I was wondering if, well… how he’s been doing.”  
  
“Oh. About that…” James looked down at his knees, tearing up grass from the ground beside him. “I can’t go see him on the full, obviously, but I want to go stay with him for a few days after. You’d be okay with staying here by yourself for a day or two, right?”  
  
Sirius blinked at him, taken by surprise. “I - uh, sure. Okay. He invited you?”  
  
“Yeah. He knows you’re here, but -”  
  
“Yeah,” Sirius interrupted. He didn’t want to hear the end of that sentence.  
  
James nodded, a stiff little bob of his head. He seemed as eager to change the subject as Sirius was. He stood up, brushing off his pants, and Sirius did the same. The two of them headed inside, depositing their brooms in the shed and wiping their bare feet on the mat outside before they entered the house.  
  
“Speaking of invitations,” James piped up as they climbed the stairs to James’ room. “We’re invited to Clarence Weasley’s wedding next week. You wanna come?”  
  
“Did you ask them if it’s okay?”  
  
“Mhm. They said it’s fine. Do you have dress robes?”  
  
He wasn’t sure if he’d packed any. He’d sort of grabbed his important belongings and then thrown some other things into his bag haphazardly.  
  
When they got to the top of the stairs, James paused outside his door. “Actually, I’m thirsty. You want some pumpkin juice?”  
  
“No thanks. I should probably check to see if I have any dress robes.”  
  
James nodded. “I’ll be right back then.”  
  
As it turned out, he did have dress robes; they were crumpled up in the bottom of his bag. They were a stiff, formal material in deep forest green. His mother had bought them, surely.  
  
He hated them as soon as he put them on.  
  
Objectively speaking, they didn’t look half bad. They suited him, even. The cut widened his shoulders, the neckline emphasised his jaw, the green brought out the grey of his eyes. He  _hated_  them.  
  
James entered the room, raised an eyebrow at the glower on Sirius’ face as he stared in the mirror, and set his glass of pumpkin juice down on the bedside table. “Something the matter, Pads?”  
  
“Yes,” Sirius huffed. “C’mere and help me with these robes.”  
  
“What about them?” James asked, even as he walked over to stand behind Sirius. “They look fine, mate.”  
  
“I know.” Truthfully, he had no idea what was bothering him so much about the robes. He cast his mind around and decided it must have been the colour - much too Slytherin. “Help me Transfigure them red.”  
  
James looked completely exasperated, but didn’t say anything besides “What shade of red?”  
  
“Dunno. Just… red.”  
  
James nodded and within a few moments he’d managed to completely change the colour of the robes. Sirius stared at his altered reflection, a sinking feeling in his stomach.  
  
“Er… thanks, Prongs,” he said, going for a cheerful tone.  
  
It didn't work. James's eyebrow raised again. “What's up?” he demanded. “Do you not like the colour? I can-”  
  
“No,” Sirius interrupted. “No, it’s - the colour’s fine. Thanks.”  
  
James still looked skeptical, but Sirius didn't know what to say to reassure him. The colour  _was_  fine. It was just that Sirius still hated the robes, and he didn't know why.  
  
He might not have minded so much if he understood. Normally he wouldn't even bother to try to justify it to himself. It was just... well, looking at his reflection, he knew, objectively, that the robes looked nice on him. He looked good. Handsome.  
  
So why was he feeling such a strong urge to tear them off and never, ever put them on again?  
  
He pulled the robes off and threw them unceremoniously in a heap on the floor. It took quite a lot of self-restraint not to kick them. James was starting to look concerned, but Sirius just ignored him and yanked his t-shirt back on.  
  
“Is everything okay, Sirius?”  
  
“James.” Sirius made sure to inject a note of exasperation into his tone. “It’s fine. I just don't like them, okay?”  
  
“ But they look nice.”  
  
“They’re uncomfortable,” Sirius said bluntly, and James dropped it.   
  
**  
  
The two of them spent the afternoon helping Mrs. Potter with chores. They cleaned dishes, weeded the front path, and tidied up James’ Quidditch shed (a task he complained the whole way through - “It’s perfectly tidy already!” he whined, as Sirius struggled to hold an armful of empty containers of broom polish). Then, after they'd gotten all the dust and cobwebs off them, James went to help his father collect magnolias for the shrine, and Sirius, after some deliberation, decided to go help Mrs. Potter bring the laundry in from the line.  
  
She seemed grateful for his help - she kept smiling at him from the other side of the line, and he couldn't have stopped himself from smiling back if he'd wanted to. He helped her fold her saris, and he collected the clothes pins as she took her skirts off the line.  
  
The skirts drew Sirius’ eye in a way that unsettled him. The fabric blew gently in the breeze, making the gold and silver threads woven among the reds and golds and blues dance and shimmer. He wanted to run his hands over them; he wondered what it would feel like to have the material swishing around his leg as he walked. But he tried to ignore these thoughts - and the accompanying ones of  _vile, perverted, degenerate, depraved,_ although he was sure that this had nothing to do with his attraction to men.  
  
The presence of Mrs. Potter made him feel slightly better. Her smile was warm and reassuring; although she didn't speak to him, she made him feel safe. Mrs. Potter perhaps didn't  _love_  him, not the way she loved James, but at least she cared about him.  
  
When the laundry was all folded in the basket, Sirius took it from her with a nod and a smile. She beamed at him and said, “Dhanyavaad”; he replied, “Koi baat nahi”, a little awkwardly, and took the basket inside.  
  
He didn't trust himself to handle the clothes, so he handed the basket off to James and went to go Scourgify the bathroom, and he refused to examine his thoughts at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> roti - a flatbread often eaten with breakfast  
> namaste - a respectful salutation, used as a greeting or as a goodbye  
> Dhanyavaad - thank you  
> Koi baat nahi - you're welcome/don't mention it  
> puja - I recommend looking at the Wiki page for this to understand it better, but basically: "Puja is a prayer ritual performed by Hindus to host, honour and worship one or more deities, or to spiritually celebrate an event [...] In Hinduism, puja is done on a variety of occasions, frequency and settings. It may include daily puja done in the home, to occasional temple ceremonies and annual festivals, to few lifetime events such as birth of a baby or a wedding, or to begin a new venture." Many Hindus perform a Puja ritual several times a day including once before dawn/before breakfast. In the context of this story, the Potters have a home shrine (as was mentioned in the last chapter) and they perform puja every morning, which is why James has been up for hours.


	7. vii. Acceptance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A shopping trip and two days alone.

James and Sirius Flooed to Diagon Alley the next day. Mr. Potter had given them some money to buy Sirius an outfit for the wedding; they’d offered to lend him something, but all they had were  _shirwani_ s, and Sirius wasn’t sure of the propriety. They went to Florean Fortesque’s first, then strolled up and down the alley with their ice cream cones, looking in windows.  
  
“Well, we should probably get to robe shopping,” James said when he finished his ice cream.  
  
“Does it have to be robes?” Sirius grumbled, the image of himself in the robes he’d brought from home popping into his mind.  
  
“I suppose not.” James looked at him curiously. “What do you have in mind?”  
  
Twenty minutes later, the two of them emerged into Muggle London, James’ pocket full of pound notes. “You sure about this, Padfoot?” he asked, looking around in bewilderment.  
  
Sirius grinned at him and rolled his eyes fondly. “‘Course I am. Come along, Prongs.”  
  
Sirius had explored this part of Muggle London a few times before, and he led James to a small thrift shop a few blocks away. James seemed dubious, raising an eyebrow at the slightly-grungy storefront, but Sirius dragged him inside.  
  
They went their separate ways inside the store - James wandered off to examine all the electronics, and Sirius started browsing the racks of clothes. He flipped disinterestedly through the selection of dress pants. Most of them were far too big for him and incredibly ugly; he couldn't stop himself from laughing at a pair of purple-and-orange checkered golf pants.  
  
Eventually he found himself in front of the skirts, and his heartbeat picked up as he remembered the way he’d felt the day before. Hesitantly, he reached out and ran his hand over the skirt on the end of the rack. It was a rough, sack-like material, and he crinkled his nose up before beginning to flip through the selection.  
  
In the middle of the rack, he stopped. His eyes widened.  
  
There was a deep purple skirt hanging there. It flowed simply but elegantly from the waistband to drape freely around knee length. It was made up of two layers of soft, silky material, one slightly longer than the other. It was  _beautiful_.  
  
Sirius considered for a moment before picking the skirt up and holding it up against his body. It swished pleasantly against his knees and he smiled slightly. It seemed like it would be fun to wear - twirly, probably. But he knew he couldn’t. He didn't know why he was even thinking about it.   
  
“Sirius?”  
  
Sirius jumped and spun on the spot, his hands clutching tighter around the skirt’s hanger. “James!” he yelped, trying not to panic. “I just - I was-”  
  
James was staring at him, but he didn't look disgusted or angry. He looked... rather calm, actually. Puzzled, if anything. He tilted his head and looked down at the skirt, seemingly considering it. After a moment, he spoke.  
  
“Are you going to try it on?”  
  
Sirius blinked. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He blinked again. “I, er… I… sure?”  
  
James nodded. “ I'll wait here, then.”  
  
The rush of shameful pleasure, of guilty relief that coursed through Sirius when he pulled the skirt over his hips in the dressing room was almost overwhelming. He stared at himself in the mirror, smoothing his hands over the silky material. He didn't dare to twirl; he felt like if he did, it might be something he'd never come back from.  
  
Even still, when he and James left the shop 5 minutes later, the skirt was in the bag in Sirius' left hand.  
  
**  
  
“Do you want to talk about it?” James asked after dinner that night.   
  
Sirius knew James was being sincere, but the idea scared him nonetheless. He didn't much fancy the idea of admitting to James that he had no idea what the fuck was wrong with him. He wasn't sure how James would react to the idea that he was just groping in the dark, and that there was nothing for him to let James in on or to help him understand.  
  
“Is it... something to do with being gay?” James pressed when Sirius had been silent for a few minutes.  
  
Sirius swallowed. “I… don’t think so?”  
  
“It’s something else?”  
  
“I suppose so. I- I don’t really know, James,” he admitted. “I don’t know. It just… it feels good. It feels right.”  
  
James considered him for a moment before nodding and clapping him on the shoulder. “Then I'm with you.”  
  
Sirius didn't think he could thank him enough, so he just smiled shakily at him and socked him lightly on the arm, trying to lighten the atmosphere and act casual, as though he weren’t practically shaking with relief. James faked a scowl and punched him back, harder, and Sirius laughed and everything felt so wonderfully  _normal_  that for a second it was easy to forget that everything was about as far from “normal” as it could possibly be.  
  
It wasn't long before James broke the illusion, though. “ I've been doing a lot of thinking, you know, and I reckon you should write a letter to Remus. Tell him everything you told me. I'll take it with me when I go tomorrow and see if he'll read it.”  
  
Sirius’ face fell, and James, seeing this, got a familiar look on his face - a stern but still caring expression that only he could pull off. “He deserves the truth,” he admonished gently. “He deserves to know why you did what you did, and he deserves to hear it from you.”  
  
Sirius sighed, knowing he was right. But the idea of writing to Remus was one that he'd been trying to stop from even crossing his mind. He didn't know where to start, or how he could possibly ever apologize enough.  
  
James, after a few minutes, announced he was going flying; he didn’t say so, but Sirius knew it was to give him some privacy, and he was grateful. He didn’t want James to see him like this, his hands shaking so much he could hardly hold his quill.  
  
And he told Remus everything. He told him everything that he’d told James and more. He explained all the furtive glances and dreaded thoughts and the hissing voice. He told him about the more practical things, too - the truth of the incident with Snape (he restrained himself from begging unabashedly for forgiveness), what had happened at the Malfoy party, and what his mother had done afterward. He even tried his best to describe all the things he hadn’t yet shared with James - about his hair, and Mrs. Potter’s saris, and the skirt. The only thing he didn’t say was “By the way, I’m pretty sure I fancy the pants off of you” - he was sure that that would lead to nothing good. With a sort of grim amusement he realized that if he’d had that sort of foresight in May, he wouldn’t be writing this letter in the first place.  
  
Like his letter to James, he didn’t reread - he just rolled it up and sealed it with a tap of his wand. He almost hoped Remus would refuse to read it and James would just destroy it. Remus not knowing and hating him was horrible, but a million times better than him knowing everything and hating Sirius anyway.  
  
He went downstairs to wait for James, not wanting to be alone with his thoughts. He knew Mr. Potter was probably napping, but he found Mrs. Potter in the sitting room. She beamed at the sight of him and patted the seat next to her on the couch and, suddenly, things didn’t seem quite so bad after all.  
  
**  
  
James went to Remus' the following day, taking Sirius’ letter with him. Sirius decided to see if Peter wanted to go to Diagon Alley; he didn’t think he could handle being by himself quite yet. Peter agreed, much to Sirius’ relief. He put his hair up in a bun, tucked his wand into it, and Flooed to the Leaky Cauldron.  
  
Peter met him outside of Dervish & Banges. It was awkward at first, although Sirius had written a week ago and briefly explained the situation - Peter seemed slightly unsure of how to behave. He got over it soon enough, though, and the two of them spent a few pleasant hours wandering the alley, Sirius filling Peter in on all the prank ideas he and James had come up with.  
  
They parted ways after lunch and Sirius went back to James'. He was planning to just go to his room (the guest room, he reminded himself, not his room, he was only visiting) and spend some time alone, maybe read or practice spells - he just wanted to stay out of the Potters’ way. Perhaps he’d put on his new skirt; he needed to get used to wearing it before the wedding, but he felt a bit self-conscious wearing it around just James. On his way into the house, however, he spotted Mrs. Potter in the garden. She smiled and beckoned him over, and he went to her after only a second's hesitation.   
  
When he reached her, she nodded in satisfaction and set off down the garden path. Sirius, confused, walked next to her. They didn't speak, but Mrs. Potter didn't seem to mind the quiet; she was humming softly, and every so often she would pause and gesture towards a flower, which Sirius would obligingly sniff. It occurred to him that there was no particular reason she’d called him over - that she just wanted to spend time with him. It struck him how sad it was that he was surprised by that.  
  
When they turned and began to walk back to the house, Mrs. Potter spotted a magnolia on the ground. She picked it up, brushed dirt off the petals with careful fingers, and tucked it into Sirius’ hair.  
  
He couldn't stop smiling for the rest of the day.  
  
**  
  
James returned home at lunchtime, two days after he'd left. Sirius had had one whole day alone at Potter Manor, a day he'd spent the night before dreading. He didn't want to be inconvenience, a nuisance; yet he didn't want to be rude by spending all day in his bedroom. In the end, Mr. Potter challenged him to a game of Wizard Chess at breakfast and, after Sirius had been thoroughly trounced, Mrs. Potter took him out to work in the garden, which he'd enjoyed rather more than he'd been expecting.  
  
He went to meet James at the Apparition point at noon. Mr. Lupin had brought him by Side-Along Apparition, and Sirius avoided his eyes - he didn't know how much Remus had told his parents, and he wasn't sure he wanted to. Instead he kept his gaze on James, desperate for news, a response, and hoping that that desperation wasn't showing on his face.  
  
James smiled at him, but his eyes were sad, and Sirius’ stomach twisted uncomfortably. The news wasn't bad, but it wasn't good either - Sirius could read James well enough to know that.  _Acceptance, but not forgiveness,_  he thought.  _Remus doesn't hate me for being queer, but he still hates me._  
  
Mr. Lupin Disapparated, and James clapped Sirius on the shoulder, squeezing lightly.  
  
“It'll be okay, Sirius,” he said gently.  
  
And Sirius said, “Yeah. It'll be okay,” because he didn't know what else to say - and maybe, it occurred to him, maybe it was even true.


	8. vii. Celebration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Potters and Sirius attend the wedding.

Clarence’s wedding was the afternoon of the 17th. Sirius woke early enough that he could have joined the Potters for puja if he'd wanted, but he didn't awaken on purpose; rather, he was too anxious to stay asleep. Were people going to look at him funny? Would anyone say anything? What if he caused a scene? For that matter, what would the Potters say? They hadn't seen his outfit yet. What if they disapproved, or got angry? What if they threw him out the way his real parents had?  
  
He barely ate any breakfast - he had no appetite. All three Potters looked concerned, but none of them pushed him. After breakfast he went to get changed; he knew he didn't strictly need to, that they weren’t leaving for hours, but he wanted to get comfortable. He put on one of his school shirts first, leaving the top few buttons undone and rolling his sleeves up to his elbows. That was the easy part of it, the part he’d done countless times before. The skirt was a different matter. He stood there in his shirt and underwear for five minutes trying to work up the courage to put it on. Once again he had the feeling that this was something he couldn't come back from - but then, was that so bad? Did he even want to?  
  
No, he decided, he didn't. He was tired of feeling strange in his own skin, of constantly repeating his mother's twisted words to himself and allowing them to get to him. He was Sirius, the black sheep of the Black family, the only Gryffindor in a long line of Slytherins, and he was sick of letting his family hang over his head.  
  
They couldn’t hurt him anymore.  
  
He put on the skirt.  
  
It was different this time around; it caused less of a furtive thrill inside him and more of an easy peace. He tucked in his shirt and stood in front of the mirror, smoothing his hands over his thighs and turning this way and that. He thought he looked rather fantastic, if he was being honest. The skirt fit him perfectly and was actually very comfortable. He could feel his anxiety melting away, replaced with confidence. Confidence - he’d missed the feeling. Was he not known for it at school? He was almost embarrassed that it had taken him so long to rediscover it.  
  
There was a knock on the door, snapping Sirius out of his reverie. “Padfoot?” came James’ voice from outside. “Can I come in?”  
  
“Wow, knocking. Fancy,” Sirius teased. “Normally you’re fine with barging in on me in my skivvies.”  
  
James huffed and walked into the room. He stopped in his tracks, blinking rapidly, when he saw Sirius. “Whoa. You look great, Pads! That really suits you.”  
  
“Right?” Sirius agreed, grinning. Although he hadn’t really been expecting a different reaction, his chest filled with warmth. He huffed a small sigh of relief and bounced slightly on the balls of his feet.  
  
“You’re not nervous, are you?”  
  
“Nervous?” Sirius scoffed. “Why? The only people who’ll be saying anything rude will be the ones who’re jealous that I look better than them.”  
  
James cracked a smile, but looked unconvinced. “Well, just so you know, if anyone says anything rude to you, I won’t hesitate to sock them.”  
  
Sirius gave him an affronted look. “Excuse me, I’m perfectly capable of socking them myself!”  
  
“Did I say you weren’t?” James challenged him, eyes dancing. “It’d be more for my own satisfaction, really. Nothing to do with you at all.”  
  
“Oh, well in that case,” Sirius snorted. “Does that mean I get to sock people if they’re rude to you?”  
  
“Deal,” James agreed. He was planning to wear a shirwani, and Sirius knew he’d been worried about the reactions of other guests. “We should probably avoid socking anyone, though. Mumma and papa would kill us if we ruined Clarence’s wedding.”  
  
“Fine,” Sirius sighed dramatically. “I’ll be on my best behaviour.”  
  
It was a couple of hours before James got dressed; they spent the time in between sprawled in James’ room, Sirius listening to James ramble on about what his wedding to Lily Evans would be like and occasionally pitching in suggestions. They’d just decided that Prongs should gallop down the aisle to majestic orchestral music when Mrs. Potter called something from downstairs, and James stood up.  
  
“She says we need to go soon and I have to get dressed,” he explained in response to Sirius’ questioning look.  
  
“Oh shit.” Sirius feigned dismay. “We should’ve spent all that free time trying to tame your hair.”  
  
James laughed and flipped him off. “Dick. Bugger off so I can get changed.”  
  
**  
  
Septimus and Cedrella Weasley’s home was on the outskirts of Bideford, a Muggle port town. It was not a particularly pretty place, but the Weasleys’ house was lovely. Ivy adorned the whitewashed walls and reached towards the dark-shingled roof. There were lace curtains in the windows and flower pots on either side of the door. The property was quite small, but the Weasleys had obviously put a lot of care into it. Unlike Grimmauld Place, it looked like a home.  
  
At Grimmauld Place, Sirius had heard whispers about the Weasleys - they never had quite enough money, their three sons shared a bedroom, they had to keep chickens and grow vegetables to save money on food - but they’d been very kind to him the few times he’d met them, and he didn’t care about any of that. He liked the Weasleys.  
  
They walked around the house to the backyard, where chairs had been set up on either side of a makeshift aisle. At the end of the aisle was a flower-covered arch. There were already quite a few guests seated, and the Potters and Sirius walked forward to join them.  
  
They were greeted at the start of the aisle by a young man with bright red hair, presumably a Weasley cousin. Sirius watched him warily as Mr. and Mrs. Potter said namaste, prepared to tell him off if he reacted badly, but he took it in stride and Sirius relaxed slightly.   
  
The four of them were seated in one of the middle rows, and they settled in to wait for the ceremony to begin. Sirius’ eyes wandered around the backyard as the rows behind them filled up. It was actually quite a nice location for a wedding, he thought. The flowers in the gardens were in full bloom and provided natural decorations. The sun was shining overhead, but it wasn’t too hot out, just pleasantly warm. There were butterflies fluttering around - whether they’d been Charmed there or just liked the flowers, Sirius didn’t know, but the effect was nice either way. There was a low murmur of voices around them; and, best of all, nobody seemed to be looking at him or the Potters funny.  
  
The ceremony was long and dull; Clarence and his bride, Mariana, made a beautiful couple, and Sirius was happy for them, really, he was, but the officiant droned on for so long that he started to feel like he was in History of Magic. He managed to behave himself, though. He kept his fidgeting to a minimum, and he didn’t nudge James or whisper to him even once.  
  
Finally, the officiant told Clarence to kiss the bride, and Sirius stood along with everyone else to clap and cheer. The couple kissed and made their way back down the aisle; the chairs and arch disappeared, replaced with a dance floor and buffet table, and chatter broke out amongst the guests.  
  
James stretched, letting out a groan. “I think that officiant was a relative of Binns’,” he complained. “Can we eat now?”  
  
“Aren’t they going to have their first dance or something?” Sirius looked around for the bride and groom. “I’m sure that’s a thing.”  
  
“So? We can watch from the buffet, can’t we? I’m hungry!”  
  
Sirius shook his head fondly at his best friend. Truthfully, he was was hungry too, so he agreed and the two of them walked over and started helping themselves to food.  
  
It was just after the first dance that Sirius started to notice people staring at him. He didn’t catch too many people at it - most turned away hurriedly if he looked at them - but he could feel the eyes on him. He tried not to let it get to him. After all, he got stared at a lot at school (and usually enjoyed it, honestly). He should have been used to it. But there was an uncomfortable wriggly feeling in the pit of his stomach, and he couldn’t seem to make it go away.  
  
People were doing double-takes at James, too, but he didn’t seem to mind as much. He was eating seconds from the buffet and grinning around in between bites. Was he just used to it? Would Sirius get used to it too?  
  
He supposed he could, if need be. The relief he’d felt when he put the skirt on that morning was worth the stares. Why should he give a shit about what a bunch of strangers at a wedding thought of him? So far, none of the people who mattered to him had shown anything but acceptance.  
  
More and more people took to the dance floor as the afternoon wore on; even James went and danced with a pretty redheaded girl for a while. But Sirius stuck to the sidelines. The only person he was interested in dancing with wasn’t there, and even if he had been, he wasn’t talking to Sirius.  
  
When James returned from dancing with the redhead, though, he offered Sirius his arm.  
  
“Will you do me the honour, Padfoot?” he asked solemnly, and Sirius grinned.  
  
“But of course, Prongs,” he replied, resting his hand on James’ proffered arm.  
  
He let James lead him onto the dance floor. A slow song was playing, and couples were swaying together all around them. They faced each other, James placing his hands on Sirius’ waist, Sirius putting his on James’ shoulders. The two of them moved together, swaying like all the other twosomes around them, letting out occasional giggles. James even dipped Sirius at one point, and Sirius couldn’t stop laughing or smiling. He had so much fun that he forgot about all the stares.  
  
They got home when the sun was setting and the sky was turning purple; all four of them were tired out, and they’d already decided on their way home that they didn’t need tea and would go straight to bed. Before James went upstairs, he hugged his mother and father. His mother hugged him particularly tightly; “Mera pyaara beta,” she said into his shoulder, and James looked very pleased.  
  
“What did that mean?” Sirius asked as they climbed the stairs, after he’d had his hugs and said his goodnights as well.  
  
James looked embarrassed suddenly. “Er… nothing?”  
  
“I’m not going to tease you…” Sirius really did want to know. The look on Mrs. Potter’s face when she said it and James’ happy reaction made him think it must be something really nice.  
  
“Er… well… it basically just means ‘my lovely child’.”   
  
James looked at him defensively, but Sirius wasn’t laughing. He just nodded, pensive. He was suddenly glad that James had parents who doted on him, who loved him so much. James deserved that and so much more.  
  
“Goodnight, Pads,” James said when they reached the upstairs hallway.  
  
Sirius paused, his hand on the guest room’s doorknob. “Night, Prongs,” he replied, smiling. “Thanks for the dance.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I hope everyone's enjoying this :) kudos are nice and comments make my day!


	9. ix. Breathe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The summer ends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this is the final chapter! I hope everyone enjoys!

The morning of September the first was clear and sunny. Sirius woke up at the same time as James- James went to the shrine for morning prayers, and Sirius went to start breakfast. He knew they had to leave early, and while he didn’t know how to  _cook_  breakfast, exactly, he’d picked up enough about preparation to be able to help out.

The look of delight on Mrs. Potter’s face when she walked into the kitchen and found all the ingredients ready to go was worth Sirius’ slight sleepiness. She thanked him profusely; he kissed her on the cheek and said (a bit too quickly, out of nervousness), “Koi baat nahi, mumma."

Her only response was to beam wider and pat his cheek, but that was more than enough.

They left for King’s Cross after breakfast. Sirius spent the car journey trying to convince himself that he was excited by the possibility of seeing his mother and annoying her with his appearance, rather than terrified. James seemed to notice that something was on Sirius’ mind, and when they pulled up to the station he patted Sirius’ knee.

“Don’t worry. Mumma and papa won’t let her anywhere near you.”

Sirius barked out a laugh. “Should’ve known you’d read my mind. I don’t really think she’ll acknowledge me, let alone try something in public.

“You’re probably right. I’m just letting you know.”

Sirius nodded his thanks and they got out of the car to grab their things from the boot. They were on Platform 9 ¾ by ten to eleven, and suddenly Sirius remembered - this was his fucking  _element_. James was smirking and messing up his hair, and girls were looking both of them up and down, and people were shouting greetings. Peter arrived just after they did, and the three of them sauntered down the platform looking for a compartment, occasionally pausing to chat with people from their year.

They found a compartment in the middle of the train, and Mr. Potter and Mrs. Pettigrew helped them with their luggage. Sirius stood back, feeling slightly awkward, as James and Peter said their goodbyes to their parents; he’d spotted his parents with Regulus, but he was determinedly ignoring them, choosing instead to look at the floor.

He was therefore taken by surprise when Mr. Potter released James and pulled him into a hug. He made a startled noise, but hugged back. “Dhanyavaad,” he said,  _thanks_ ; it didn’t convey nearly enough gratitude, but it was all he knew how to say. Mr. Potter didn’t seem to mind the brevity anyway.

James and Peter both got on the train as Mr. Potter let go of Sirius, and Mrs. Potter stepped forward. He bent down slightly, and she got up on her tiptoes, and they hugged each other very tightly. Sirius took in a deep breath; the last time he’d had a hug like this on Platform 9 ¾, he’d been eleven years old, and that one hadn’t felt nearly so good.

He was just about to pull away and get on the train when Mrs. Potter spoke.

“Mera beta,” she said, rocking him slightly, “Mera pyaara beta,” and Sirius’ eyes widened. He was suddenly lighter than air, he could not believe his feet were still on the ground, he was sure that he could fly all the way to Hogwarts if he tried. Mrs. Potter released him, patted his cheek in a now-familiar gesture, and stepped back. Sirius’ hands were trembling, but he pressed them together in front of him and bowed.

“Namaste ji. Dhanyavaad.”

And Mr. Potter was beaming and Mrs. Potter was wiping tears from her eyes, and, for the first time, Sirius felt a pang as he got on the Hogwarts Express.

His heart fell for a second when he walked into the compartment and Remus wasn’t there, but then he remembered that Remus was a Prefect and would be down in the Prefect carriage. He didn’t really think that Remus would be joining them, though, and he was at peace with the idea despite the painful clench it caused in his chest. He would give anything for Remus’ forgiveness, yes, but he in no way expected it. He wanted Remus to do whatever he had to do to feel safe and be happy, and if that meant him never speaking to Sirius ever again, then Sirius would find a way to live with that.

He sat there next to Peter, and he played Exploding Snap with James, and already his heart sang  _home, home, going home._  Outside the window, fields of green rolled by, and the sun filled the carriage with bright light.

“What did mumma say to you on the platform?” James asked eventually, after they’d put the cards away and moved on to plotting how best to prank the Slytherins before the train arrived in Hogsmeade. “You looked like she’d just told you you’d won the lottery.”

Sirius felt his already-wide smile grow even bigger. “She said ‘Mera pyaara beta’.”

Peter looked confused, but James’ smile mirrored Sirius’ own. “We’re still leaning towards Charming their food, then?” he asked, changing the subject back, and Sirius and Peter agreed.

**

It was much later, after the trolley had come around and the Slytherins had been thoroughly pranked, that Sirius spotted Remus heading down the corridor towards them.

His heart skipped a beat, and he couldn’t tear his eyes away. But he didn’t get his hopes up. He knew Remus wasn’t going to come in. He tried to brace himself for it, prepare himself for the inevitable moment that Remus’ eyes would meet his and immediately snap away as he hurried his footsteps up - but it never came.

The compartment door slid open. Remus walked in.

His smile was easy as anything. He sat down beside James, loosened his tie, and said, “Merlin, those meetings are boring. Bung us a Cauldron Cake, Pete?”

Sirius was going to  _explode_. Remus was just  _sitting there_  like it was the most normal thing in the world and he was  _smiling_  and he was  _beautiful_ and Sirius seemed to have forgotten how to work his lungs.

Remus ate the Cauldron Cake and threw the wrapper at James; Sirius was carefully not staring at him. A strand of hair had fallen out of his bun and he curled it around his finger, keeping his eyes on his knees.

“Alright, Sirius?”

His head snapped up.

Remus was talking to him.

Remus was  _smiling_  at him. It was hesitant, but it was there.

“Yeah,” he found himself saying. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

Remus nodded and looked out the window. James was positively beaming, and Peter looked surprised but pleased. Sirius, for his part, was flooded with relief. Things weren’t quite okay, not yet, but maybe soon they would be.

Remus, he noticed, was still smiling.

Slowly, genuinely, he smiled too.

And he breathed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Well.... that's all! I hope you all liked it. Please let me know what you thought with a review! 
> 
> Koi baat nahi - no problem / don't worry about it
> 
> (Oh, that reminds me: the significance there/the reason Sirius was nervous was that he was calling her "mumma" (mum) for the first time. Neither I nor my beta could figure out how to clarify it. If anyone has any ideas, please let me know! Or, if you thought it was fine the way it was, tell me that.)
> 
> Mera pyaara beta - James explained this in the last chapter - it basically means "my lovely child"
> 
> Endless love to the following people, who I couldn't have written this without: my friends Sriram, Riya, Drew, Briar, Adi, Kaitlin, and Erin.  
> Thanks for reading! I love you all!


End file.
